House of H
by Dreambender
Summary: All Blood Knights have been ordered out of Silvermoon City after a conflict with the Farstriders threatens to destroy what's left of the Blood Elves. Now, Sonnellion, a Blood Elf Paladin, must find his place in the horde and in the world. Chapter 2 up.
1. Gathering

Chapter 1

Gathering

The silence of the night rang in Sonnellion's ears. It was a beautiful night. The moon shone with breathe-taking radiance, and the soft breeze tickled his arms and legs and body.

He sat in his seat, looking out the window of his room, into the once vast elven lands. The blue, stagnant light from the moon bathed everything that his eyes could see. A small smile formed itself upon his lips.

In the distance, he could see his sister sitting side by side with her love. They leaned against each other like two jagged rocks by the shores of Kalimdor.

She swayed her red hair back playfully while the blonde elf beside her laughed at her childish nature. They seemed so happy together, he thought. And again, that made him smile for there was no true reason why their kind would be happy at a time like that.

The scourge had taken everything from them: their homes, their loved ones…their magic. That was what hit them the hardest, the magic. Sonnellion saw what it had done to the elves, and in the end, he found himself pitying his own kind.

Sonnellion looked down at the piece of paper he had been working on. He touched up on the picture he had drawn on its surface.

It was a crest of something that didn't exist. It was the crest of the House of H. The House of Het.

He remembered his father used to tell his stories of Het. The elf was a paladin just as he was back in the days of the alliance. And his father would travel to all corners of the known world.

His father would tell him stories of an orc named Het who had saved his life. He used to say that the Het was a better man then most he had met. And he'd joke that one day, he'd create a guild for all races known as the House of H. All would be welcome just as long as they were good people.

He laughed at that. There was no chance of it ever happening.

"Sonnellion!" a cry emanated from below.

He looked down onto the garden below. His sister and the blonde elf stood in the middle. All around them, the garden was filled with Mana Wyrms that shot about in all directions like silver arrows without a care.

"Sonnellion! Come join us down here," said Sal'thoron, the blonde elf. A seemingly permanent smile etched on his face. Ros'valan, Sonnellion's sister was at his arm, smiling the world away.

"Nah, I'll just leave you two alone" he said as he leaned back on his seat. He looked out once more into the silver lined glade. It was a haven, even in after all that had happened.

A sigh escaped his lips, and sleep was almost upon him. His eyes flickered momentarily as he tried to stay awake. He took one more glance at the piece of paper. What a sham, that thing they call an alliance. Betrayers and liars the likes of them. Never would he trust such men. Then again, he never believed he would ever trust, not at the very least join forces with the horde. Fate had a funny way of unfolding the future.

The door swung open and in came his Ros'velan in a red robe. She placed her staff by the door and took a seat next to Sonnellion.

"Where's Sal?" Sonnellion asked.

"I sent him home; we've spent enough time together for one day, I think. Now, it's time I spent time with you."

Sonnellion laughed a hearty laugh. "I'd rather be lost at sea. I wouldn't want to bore you with my dreamings. There are better things to do than dwell in pasts forever lost."

"Don't worry. I've gotten used to you." She gave him a bubbly smile that lit up the room. "What are you doing?" she asked, seeing the pieces of paper on the table top.

Sonnellion picked up the paper and showed it to her. She laughed loudly at what she saw.

Sonellion thought he saw a glint in her eyes. They sparkled slightly when she saw the crest. She reched out, her finger tips touching the smooth surface of the paper. She traced the lines with her fore-finger lovingly.

"The House of H" she began to look out the window. "I remember when father used to tell us stories about that orc and his ambitions to unite all who lived in Azeroth."

"It was a good dream."

"It was a great dream, the best I have ever heard. Imagine humans, orcs, dwarves, elves, and all together as one, believing in peace. A great dream if ever you heard one. No more wars, no more death, just this."

She pointed out at the calm world outside. The blue and black world welcomed their eyes.

"And yet, it is still just a dream." Sonnellion hid the crest inside his pack. He folded it neatly and placed it into the pocket of the old, brown bag, dropping it with a bump on the tiled ground.

Ros came closer to Sonnellion. She sat herself to on the side of the table and sent a serious look to Sonnellion's way.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came, only an eerie silence. She struggled to find her voice. The words were there, only her voice failed. She tried again. This time a sound formed, then it was a grunt, until, finally, the first syllable was uttered.

"Sonnellion, promise me you'll come back." she said. Her eyes misted up quite a bit.

Sonnellion simply smiled. "Don't worry. I'll come back."

"No" She grabbed his arm. "Promise me you'll come back."

Sunstrider Isle stilled in their silence until finally, he spoke.

"I promise"

For the last time that night, he smiled. The next day would be a day to remember. He knew it.

---

Sonnellion's eyes were un-shut. He stared up into the ceiling in his room. Memories and visions swirled in his head, a mixture of things that were and things that will be.

Nothing existed in that forever moment, only the soft brushing of the wind against the tall trees that decorated Sunstrider Isle.

There was an ambiance there that Sonnellion could not describe.

He could not sleep, only as much as one could sleep the night before a war.

There was a rustle by the window. The wind, he thought. He didn't care much if it wasn't.

He could not move his head to even see who it was. Too caught up in the trance that he was in.

He drummed his fingers lightly into each other.

His eyes were open. They were pale flashings in the dark.

There was a knock by the widow. And Sonnellion struggled to move any inch of his body. There was no response.

"Come in" he said. It was the best he could do.

Sal'thoron Sungaze crawled into the window frame. First, came his blonde hair that was like a stream of stardust set ablaze by the deathly radiance of the sun. Then the rest of his body entered the room, suited in the finest mail armor the elves have ever crafted. Yellow and tints of brown could be spotted all over his body.

He looked back out the window.

"Stay there" he called in a whispered manner.

Sonnellion knew what it was that awaited outside. It was the lynx Sal'thoron had tamed. He could never really remember its name. He didn't quite understand why. He simply couldn't remember.

Sal'thoron pulled out a chair for him to sit on. He licked his lips and began. "Sonnellion, we must speak."

Sonnellion's head bobbed up. He looked at Sal'thoron's face with quizzical eyes.

"Don't go to war tomorrow" He pleaded with his eyes. And Sonnellion saw fear behind the green.

"Why?"

"Because what you're doing is wrong"

"What are you talking about?"

"The naaru" he continued. "Don't you see? Magic just made us weak through the years we've been using it. And now, we are lucky we have been liberated from it. A new age is upon us, Sonnellion. The age of the Blood Elves. A new empire will need to rise through our blood and our strife, not through magic. And all the Blood Knights are doing is keeping that age from coming."

"The Farstriders are just paranoid, Sal" Sonnellion quipped.

They heard a roar from the courtyard outside, and a pot broke somewhere in the commotion.

"I'm a Farstrider" he shot a look in Sonnellions direction.

"Sorry" he said.

"Just don't go tomorrow. Ros'velan is worried about you. She's afraid something terrible is going to happen."

"She already spoke to me about it. I know. But there's nothing to be done. Regent Lord Theron has ordered this attack himself."

Sal'thoron's nose fell to the ground.

"This is for the good of the Blood Elves."

"I hope you're right" Sal said, nodding his head. He could not shake the feeling in his chest like something was about to happen. No one could explain it to him. Not even the magisters of Eversong woods.

"Don't worry. This war will unite the Blood Elves."

---

The blood knights were called from all over the eastern kingdoms the next day. They came in from the plaguelands and rode in through Eversong woods. The autumn trees dropped a confetti of yellow and orange leaves on their path as if welcoming them home. And yes, they were home. They even arched overhead.

Truly it was a glorious day for the Blood Elves.

At their head, Cerius rode on an elegant purple strider. He waved at the many patrons they met on the seemingly long walk to the Sheperd's gate of Silvermoon.

The mages that trained by the side of Stillwhisper pond heralded their return with a magnificent display of lights brought about, of course, by their magics.

Many met the paladins with weeping faces and open arms. Mostly sisters, mothers, and lovers. But amongst the midst of the Blood Elven crowd, there were brothers and friends, hunters and mercenaries, and those who did not have smiles on their faces.

But mostly it was a happy site. There was no doubt of that.

Sonnellion caught up at the back of the line. He had woken up late that morning because of his sleeplessness the night before.

He ran as fast as he could to make it to the parade before it could end. He didn't want to miss it at all.

Sal'thoron and his sister joined him from their home in the Sunstrider Isle. If they didn't, they may not have been able to see him ever again.

They came to a stop at the entrance bridge. Their feet stomping in unison, then going silent in unison.

Cerius bowed to the three men that awaited them there, and the others followed soon after. Of course, as did Sonnellion.

The three figures had an imposing aura to them. To the left was the Grand Magister. To the right was the Ranger General. And in the middle, of course, Regent Lord Theron himself stood to greet the forces.

"Welcome all" he began. He did not shout, yet his voice carried from the front of the line to those who were at the back. He raised his arms into the air. "I would have hoped that you would all be gathered here for a better reason."

He looked over at all who were gathered. A sea of pointed ears met his gaze.

"Our peoples have been plagued by misfortunes, to say the least, in recent times. The undead have taken everything we hold dear to our hearts. And now, even as they are defeated, they still infect the wound they left."

Tears began to drop and soft murmurs rose from the crowd. Even Theron himself shed a tear.

"The undead still plague the Dead Scar and to the south, they have found themselves a new leader. And what makes it worse is that the enemy was once one of us. Dar'khan Drathir. The traitor. Now, I call upon you paladins, you knights of blood to fight this darkness, the darkness of Dar'khan. I have called you from all the ends of the Eastern Kingdoms for this one task. Not because he is such a powerful foe, but because we need to be united in these times. The Blood Elves must know loyalty and love for their homes and their families. Go, paladins, go and banish the shadow, so that we may be worthy once more to be known as the Sin'dorei!"

He ended with a boom of his voice. And all together, the Blood Elves erupted like thunder. Their calls echoed through the forest, and it became apparent that it was more powerful than any orc war cry. They were unmatched even by the great Grom Hellscream himself.

Theron shot his arms into the distance, his eyes almost puddled with tears. And the paladins marched out to have their war.

---

The rain poured down heavily upon Tranquillen village. Rangers and the Forsaken all ran about with their business. Crates were pulled in from Eversong woods to help with the siege on Deathholme.

The forsaken handed out weapons and armor to all personnel. Bows were strung tight and blades were sharpened as the moment drew closer. All there was to wait for were the Blood Knights.

Their mastery of the light would be a great asset when it came to fighting the vile undead.

A cluster of shadows marched in. Their forms were drenched in water. Each step seemed to make the blight that had settled on the grounds of ghostland grow. There were those in robes, others were in harnesses, and the rest were wearing nothing more than clothe and their weapons.

Each of them held their weapons tightly. It was almost a part of them, and who they were, and extension of their lunacy.

"Let the blood shed begin" said on of the warriors as he raised his blade up into the roaring sky.

They were a frightening sight, yellow eyes glowing in green darkness. Only the bravest could face these eaters of death.

A woman approached the group. Behind her, the other leaders of the town followed, each barking orders at the many soldiers that crossed their path.

"Gentlemen, you're all here to follow orders, not to give in to your frenzied madness and become the very thing we are fighting. Do I make myself clear?"

A chorus of grunts emanated from the group of "men". "You don't order us!" a forsaken shouted from the back of the crowd. And all the answered with a "Yeah!" followed by laughter.

"Who said that?" she asked. Her eyes tried to pear into whoever had talked back to her.

"I did" One of them stepped forward. He held his sword high and proud for all to see. His eyes did not glow like the others. Instead there was only emptiness in the sockets. And upon his face, a smile was fixed.

"Well, it's good to know you are proud of what you did" the blood elf said, pointing at the undead.

She looked him in the eye, then smiled and without any warning flames were born out of her hands, and the undead burst in flames.

The embers licked at his hands and feet. His torso and face did not escape its wrath neither. A horrifying scream escaped from his lips, and all who heard it trained their eyes to the burning man.

They all twitched. No one would've admitted it. And in that pouring rain, I doubt anyone would've seen their moment of fear. But I promised you, it happened.

"Make it stop!" he said as he struggled to fight of the element that was charring his every fiber. The woman just smiled at her doing. She felt no remorse for the undead. "Make it stop!" he cried again.

In that moment, he was bathed in green light. The flames died and his body healed as much as an undead body could.

Another stepped forward. He carried a staff and let it lead his way. He wore a green robe that draped over his body like ink. His mouth hung low as his neck and he spoke, though with the mannerisms of the undead, with great etiquette like someone who had been educated.

"We are in control of our beastial nature; I can promise you that" he said, picking up the ally he had just healed.

"Make sure of it" were the woman's final words before leaving them there in the pouring rain.

He gave her a quick but transparent smile.

"Move back to you post" he said to the others. And they complied with nothing more than just a few grunts and moans.

The drums of war played at the back of the undead priest's mind. He knew they would not get out of this without great loss. It was to be a bloody campaign. He could feel it in the very earth he walked. Something great was about to happen. Something that would change all their lives.

A spark caught the side of his vision, and he turned to where he had seen the flash.

In the upper floor of one of the houses, a small flame flickered in the deathly wind. It played shadows on the great walls of the house: tall ones, thin ones, large ones, and dark ones. There was a shadow of a woman elf woman, and she wept in that darkened silhouette. There were shadows of shadows that wrapped the air around her. And shadows of magics that were wild when released.

The priest hobbled up the ramp to where she was. He heard voices, concealed under the pounding rain.

The woman spoke. "Come to me! Come to me!" She chanted in a labored tone.

The priest closed in on where she stood. Her shadow now cast under his feet.

Another voice joined hers and the rain's in that cacophony of chaos. The priest sought to see to whom the voice belonged, but there was no one. And he began to wonder if it was just his imagination playing tricks on his already scarred mind.

He reached in for the woman's shoulder. He hesitated just as his hand touched the silk of her robe. Finally, he pulled her to look at him.

"Excuse me, are you okay?" he asked.

She turned. Her body glistening with sweat.

"Yes" She breathed heavily. Each breathe passed through her like it was her first. "I was just practicing my magics."

"I was just checking. I heard-"

"I'm fine. Now please, leave me to my training" she said straight faced.

"As you wish" was all he could say.

He left her there that night. He looked back to her as he went, knowing that something was wrong. Something was going to happen. He could feel it in every drop of rain. Something was going to happen. He just didn't know what.


	2. Eve

I just realized, I didn't have a disclaimer in the first chapter. Or maybe I did, and I just can't remember. So here it goes; I don't own WoW.

Well, that was completely useless. I don't understand why we have to keep doing that.

Chapter 2

Eve

The rain died down, and a pillar of light shone through the thin clouds. A soft breeze blew in the needed sunlight, and many found themselves not having the feeling of dread in their hearts anymore.

For a moment, they forgot about the war and its price. And they took in all that morning had to offer.

An elf cupped his hands over his eyes and took a look up at the blue sky. It was strange. The sun had never graced the ghostlands before, but now it shone as brightly as the wonders of Silvermoon City.

Speculations were made as to why the sun appeared so suddenly.

"It's Drathir and his black magic" someone said. And no one could truly disagree for there was none there who could explain it.

"No mage is capable of this" one of the magisters disagreed. "No man is powerful enough to lift the curse of the Scourge. This is something greater."

There were other guesses, and murmurs were sent in all directions by confused mouths. And still, after all that, no one was certain what the reason was.

In the end, they all agreed it was not normal and left the matter at that.

Until they all heard it.

A shout filled the entire town. An elf came in, shouting at the top of his lungs.

Yellow and green eyes gathered around the elf, and they awaited for him to deliver his message.

The elf struggled for breathe, and he panted on bended knee.

Eager ears drew closer to him.

"What is it?" they asked.

He took one more deep breathe before finally speaking. He didn't shout this time. He didn't have to for the message would be as clear as that morning.

"They're here"

All looked out into the distance, and found nothing at first. But then as their spirits wavered, the first sighting came.

Cerius came from behind tall hills. His blonde hair glinted in the sun's rays.

The men in town held their breaths. The Blood Knights had arrived.

The sound of clunking metal followed behind Cerius. And the next wave of Blood Knights came into view. And in that instant, everyone understood why the sun had come out.

Sonnellion no longer trailed in the back. He was now set amongst the men in the middle where shields and swords were the weapons of mastery.

Iron weapons crowded his shoulders in both sides. He looked about, and he found himself humming quietly to the rhythmic tune of marching feet.

Trees greeted them when they came just like when they entered Silvermoon. But this time, the trees were old and withered and reached their claws out to the paladins. Their withered claws arched overhead just as before, but this time none of them felt welcome.

There was a different aura in the way the trees spread the branches. It was like offering a deceitful hug to unwary travelers.

The men were spooked, yet they kept straight faces. They couldn't waver or show any sign of fear. They were the Blood Knights, and in those times, they were meant to be more than just warriors.

---

The sun was hot.

And in the mess of creatures that gathered in the Bazaar district of Silvermoon City, it became even hotter.

Waves of voices collided against one another, bids were made by shouting masses, and pockets were picked by shadowed rogues.

The city was as alive as ever, even with its downfall. It was days like this that you could see the former glory of the elves rising up from its grave.

Five figures sat fanning themselves by the side of the road. They watched the world unfold around them with their eyes of green, and they commented on all they saw.

Big things, small things, none escaped their sights. They pointed at merchants and buyers whom they found rather funny looking or perhaps simply ugly. They became especially fond of the Trolls.

Elves were never one to love trolls and even as they had become allies, they still found themselves a little bit wary of the rival creatures.

One of the elves pointed out into the crowd.

On the other end of his finger, the remaining Blood Knights gathered.

Their armor were red and black, and gems decorated some of them in key places. They held their chins high, champions of the Sin'dorei. They walked with utmost confidence. And as they went, they looked like gods among the weak.

Elves praised them from both sides of the street with smiling faces and flowers to offer.

"Look at them" He nudged the Blood Elf beside him. "They think they're gods among us."

"Of course, they do" the eldest of them said. He was wise and knowledgeable and old if ever elves grew old. His face was still young, but his whitish hair defeated all doubt of his wisdom for only the elves of thought are born with such beautiful hair.

"They have power" he continued. "while the rest of us are left scavenging for our past."

The men in that group nodded their heads. They didn't know it, but they had jealous smirks.

"And now they are the protectors of the Sin'dorei" another butted in. "It is the way of things. We…" he sent his finger to himself and the other four seated at that table. "are forgotten."

"How can we be?" the fourth elf asked? "We were the ones who fought during the attacks. Not them. While we died, they were off in the human lands aiding those infestations instead of helping their own country."

"They're traitors just like the alliance, and I do not see why they are welcomed as heroes" the white haired patron explained.

Nods were made again.

It was then that the last of the seated spoke. "But there was no way they could've known that their own country was in danger. Like you said, they were off in distant lands. What happened to us was not their fault."

"They didn't help either" the first entered.

"I understand where you fine rangers are coming from. They are not truly without fault, but they have given the people a reason to believe life is worth living."

"Pff! Who's side are you taking Sal'thoron?"

"No one" he remarked. "I simply say that this is not the time for disunity. We all suffered from what the undead did, and we still all suffer."

"Not all of us."

They looked over at the Blood Knights again. They truly couldn't see it, the other four. They believed only in what they knew. They knew the Blood Knights were no heroes.

But what frightened Sal'thoron the most was that he couldn't truly see it either.

Underneath the table they gripped their weapons tightly. They awaited for the moment that they'd need to unsheathe them because they also knew that something was going to happen.

They just didn't know what.

---

The men had settled into their places. They sat down on the black ground and set up all that they needed for camp.

One more day and the siege would begin.

Sonnellion stood by the merchants, gazed upon the many items on display. They glittered in the new-born, golden rays of the sun. He tested them each. His fingers touched the blades' edge with skillful precaution, ran them across the sharpness of the weapon.

In truth, he loved it, the feel. He was trained in the ways even as a boy and knew of beauties of a weapons craftsmanship.

He swung them about, around and over, cutting the desperate air. They flashed and glittered with every fluid motion, every precise turn of the wrist.

"If you like it, buy it. Stop wasting my time" the merchant barked.

He took one more good look at the weapon, then to the others that lay on the table. None caught his eye. They were all just glinting metal and cutting things. Not the type of thing his father used to show him, not were they the type he appreciated.

"Maybe not"

He placed the blade carefully back in its place.

He scanned the town. He watched what everyone was doing with interest.

Many had knelt or sat on the ground. There were so many that even the roads were occupied by soldiers.

He watched the paladins. Some were arrogant as ever. They laughed amongst themselves. There were no worries about the war for the likes of them.

The rest fell silent. They prayed, Sonnellion knew it even as the proud Blood Knights kept confident faces.

He watched the undead. I'm sorry, the Forsaken. He still felt his skin crawl and wriggle when he saw them. It was like a worm had dug into his flesh and ate away at the soft, fleshy interior.

Even in daylight, he feared them.

"I'm sorry if you find my kind repulsive. I must admit, I still scream when I see mirrors."

He turned to find a priest, his weight upon the staff he held.

"No, it just takes time to get used to" he tried explained.

"Believe me, I know." The undead walked over to him. There was a slight limp in his gait. "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Benjamin Pratt." He gestured his hands in front of him, then bowed to the Paladin.

"Sonnellion Firewell" he returned the act.

Benjamin took a step back as if surprised. He looked at Sonnellion up from head to toe. "Firewell? Your father was not Petracus Firewell?

"He was"

Benjamin smiled at that.

A strange thing, the smile of an undead. Never do they look more sinister. It's as if they try to humanize themselves with the act, failing miserably in the process making them more monster than they were before.

"Grizzly business , your father's death" he recalled.

"He was killed by orcs. Such deaths are always grizzly" said Sonnellion simply.

"Well, the details are never accurate when it comes to deaths on the battlefield." A confused look on his face. "But I remember as a boy of twelve catching a glimpse of the your father's corpse. They brought him to Lordaeron on a caravan. I'm guessing that means he was a hero."

Sonnellion remembered that day. He couldn't come. The distance was too great for a boy. He caught the first glimpse of his father's grave only years later. He had entered the graveyard where the grass was tall and unkept. It took him awhile, after much searching through foliage, to find the spot where his father was buried. It was not a hero's grave. No one had bothered to keep back the forest's embrace.

"He was"

They strolled lazily through the gallery of warriors. Everywhere they looked it was the same. Straight yet frightened faces were scattered as far as either man could see.

"They're not looking forward to it, are they?" said Sonnellion.

"Of course not. What kind of a fool would look forward to entering a place called Deathholme?"

And they both laughed.

They walked a bit farther, to the main arc of the town center.

They were met by a ranger who ordered them to enter. And so they did.

Inside, it was a crowded mess. All those leaders in one place created a noise that would put even banshees to the test. They both wondered what they were doing there and who had summoned them.

Sonnellion saw Cerius at the other end of the room calling to him.

"Sonnellion," he was taken by the arm and placed in the middle of a group of high ranking individuals. "Stay there"

Cerius then began again. "All my men are competent enough to go to war. And just because Lord Bloodmourn or any of the other more well known Blood Knights is not here, it does not mean we are not prepared. And if you desire anymore proof of my men's mettle, then I give you Sonnellion Firewell, son of Petracus Firewell."

The group examined Sonnellion inched by inch.

"He certainly looks like his father. But just because you are his son, it does not mean you have any of his strength."

"True" was all Sonnellion could say.

"See? Even he admits it"

Cerius got in front of Sonnellion and stared the leaders straight in their eyes. "We can do this. There's nothing that would suggest we can't."

"If you are so eager to prove yourself, then do this task we will ask of you. Capture the area between the Twin Ziggurats. We will start our line there and push forward to the gates. Secure it till tomorrow and you will have proven your worth, Blood Knight."

"Done" Cerius said immediately. He turned and smiled at Sonnellion.

---

A band of warriors marched off to begin the war. They gathered in the center of town by orders of Cerius, and slowly, they made their way to the Twin Ziggurats.

They were given no salutes nor any type of greeting as they went. They went silently while the sun began to sink into night.

There were twelve of them, eight Blood Elves and 4 undead.

Cerius looked upon each of their faces. He spoke no words at first, but they already knew what it was all about. In the end, all he said was "you men ready?"

They nodded without breaking the silence. Their weapons gripped tightly in their palms. Sweat rolled down the faces of the paladins and it would have too for the Forsaken.

Sonnellion dwindled once more in the back. Benjamin walked beside him.

"You made quite an impression with the Lady Auriferous" said Benjamin as they walked underneath the entrance arc of the town.

"Like I said, my father was a hero, and the Blood Elves need one right now. I cannot blame them for seeking such a hero out."

Benjamin chuckled. "True. Too true. But perhaps they'll find their hero tonight."

Sonnellion looked at him with an amused smile. He thought about the possibility of it, but as he did, he remembered what the Lady had said. "But does he have any of his father's strength?"

Sonnellion did not believe so.

"Maybe" It was all he could say.

"This right here is a great honor if I understand your def-" He bumped a woman on the road, almost tripping. He quickly took his staff and thrust it to the ground. It imbedded, and he kept off the ground with the strength of his arms.

The woman fell to the mud and grime below. Her robes soaked and her hair a mess, she struggled to recollect the scrolls she had been carrying.

"Forgive me, I didn't see you." Benjamin offered her his hand to take. But he hands were left empty. She continued to gather the parchments and put them into her bag.

"No, I'm fine" She hurried away from them and back into Tranquillen. She glanced occasionally back to them as she went.

"Lady" Sonnellion called to her.

She kept going as if his words were unheard to her.

"Lady!" he said again.

She continued.

"I have one of your scrolls" his hand held out the piece of paper to her.

Suddenly, she stopped in her tracks and turned to come back to them slowly. She returned, her eyes fixed on the item Sonnellion held. With quivering hands, she reached for him to return it to her.

"Give it to me"

Both men gave each other questioning glances. There was something wrong with her. Sonnellion thought it was the magic addiction, but he had never seen the affliction so terrible. Only among the wicked.

"Give it to me" he voice was louder and more wanting. It was like she spoke from her baser desires. She needed to scroll, couldn't live without it. Every moment, she was not complete with it, her breathe shortened.

He handed the piece of paper to her warily. He wondered if it was the better to give her back what she wanted. And the closer her hands got to the item, the more he did not think it was so.

"Miss, you don't look so good" he said.

"Give it to me!"

Their hands drew closer, and she took it from him before finally disappearing from them.

If the quality of this chapter is not any good, then I am truly sorry. I've written all of this in 30 minute intervals at 4 in the morning because I've just been so busy, so I'm not really happy with this chapter, but it's the best I can do. I know that sounds like an excuse, but I'm just tired.


End file.
